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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27467317">Liver</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iggytheperson/pseuds/Iggytheperson'>Iggytheperson</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Drabble, Gen, snark about the other dark masters but they don't show up</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:29:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27467317</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iggytheperson/pseuds/Iggytheperson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The war machine has constructed its infrastructure perfectly.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Liver</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evolution. </p><p>A human word that can be made much more concise: to grow. All living things grow.</p><p>By such a definition, one could think of a city as a living thing. And Mugendramon does. His city of steel is no less alive than a forest. They’re built on the same foundations, after all. Made of the same things. </p><p>His city is not a very complex living thing, to be sure. It survives on emergence, like an ant colony. The stupid organisms that make up its moving parts display competence greater than the sum of its parts, through cooperation.</p><p>One fool might suggest that a war machine should not humour concepts such as cooperation. That these are the traits of activists and civil rebellions. Kind hearted creatures and chosen children. But on the contrary, he would not be a supercomputer if he dismissed credible concepts just because other factions - unaffiliated or in direct opposition to him - also understand them to be true.</p><p>There are mathematically definitive benefits to companionship and symbiosis of intent. He knows that he’ll forever be more powerful than his peers, no matter what cheap tricks Piedmon utilizes, for so long as none of them grasp this concept. He does nothing to teach them. </p><p>No allegiance of powerful forces is without internal tensions, after all. If the chosen fail to kill them first, their alliance will slowly whittle away at itself. They have no unity. But he will be best equipped to disassemble the threats of a falling out. Piedmon has but one sidekick who could survive an attack from any of them. Pinnochiomon has a handful of cohorts who hate him and will betray him someday. Metalseadramon has a respectably well-built network that finds his prey for him, but otherwise can’t do much. </p><p>Mugendramon has his city. Armed to the teeth and unified throughout. He does not even fear death, at this point.</p><p>The war machine has constructed its infrastructure perfectly. His city will live on, even if he dies, he’s sure. He has evolved, grown, beyond himself. Into a liver. If he were a stupid sap, he might call himself a heart, but Mugendramon doesn’t believe in the value of parts that can’t be removed or replaced. He filters his city of poisons, takes care of it, and makes it better than it would be without him. But it would be inefficient of him to make a city dependent on him for survival.</p><p>Now that he has created a larger whole for himself, he is immortal. Even in death, that which he created, built up, and was a part of, lives on.</p><p>And he knows that he will indeed, one day, die. The little idiots he’s allied with see themselves as untouchable, unbreakable. But they are not. The only thing that they are is young. Naive. Sure of themselves in the way so many young Ultimates are. </p><p>They believe themselves so above their enemies, not one of them will run to help the others when they’re under attack. They think ‘it won’t happen to me, it’s fine if he dies, I’m stronger’. They would view him acting differently as a sign of weakness. Not that it would matter even if they didn’t. There are eight children and four of them. Groups of two are hardly enough.</p><p>Piousness will keep them divided, and they’ll each be snuffed out, one by one.</p><p>When they are reborn, he imagines that they will all seek revenge for the rest of their days. Mugendramon will not particularly care. He will seek out his city and go back to being a liver until the next conflict too broad for him to ignore arrives, in a few millennia or so. He is a war machine. He would be a fool not to know: war does not end. It just goes on hold for a while. It would be incredibly ill-advised to get overinvested in every little squabble.</p><p>If they’re lucky, perhaps the other three will evolve a little more, from dying.</p>
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